almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the rocks.  It was a hard life.  Yes, I had a hard time of it when I was young.  Thank God, it hasn’t harmed me any.  But I shan’t forget it; and let’s be right industrious and give all we can to the poor.  I never would have believed that I’d live to call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and now that God has given me so much, let’s try and deserve it all.”

Hansei’s eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and he pulled his hat down over his forehead.  Now, while he was pulling himself up by the roots as it were, he could not help thinking of how thoroughly he had become engrafted into the neighborhood by the work of his hands and by habit.  He had felled many a tree, but he knew full well how hard it was to remove the stumps.

The foal grew restive.  Gruberwaldl, who had come with them in order to hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the boatmen was obliged to go to his assistance.

“Stay with the foal,” said Hansei.  “I’ll take the oar.”

“And I too,” cried Walpurga.  “Who knows when I’ll have another chance?  Ah! how often I’ve rowed on the lake with you and my blessed father.”

Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in perfect time.  It did them both good to have some employment which would enable them to work off the excitement.

“I shall miss the water,” said Walpurga; “without the lake, life’ll seem so dull and dry.  I felt that, while I was in the city.”

Hansei did not answer.

“At the summer palace there’s a pond with swans swimming about in it,” said she, but still received no answer.  She looked around, and a feeling of anger arose within her.  When she said anything at the palace, it was always listened to.

In a sorrowful tone she added, “It would have been better if we’d moved in the spring; it would have been much easier to get used to things.”

“Maybe it would,” replied Hansei, at last, “but I’ve got to hew wood in the winter.  Walpurga, let’s make life pleasant to each other, and not sad.  I shall have enough on my shoulders, and can’t have you and your palace thoughts besides.”

Walpurga quickly answered, “I’ll throw this ring, which the Queen gave me, into the lake, to prove that I’ve stopped thinking of the palace.”

“There’s no need of that.  The ring’s worth a nice sum, and besides that it’s an honorable keepsake.  You must do just as I do.”

“Yes; only remain strong and true.”

The grandmother suddenly stood up before them.  Her features were illumined with a strange expression, and she said:—­

“Children!  Hold fast to the good fortune that you have.  You’ve gone through fire and water together; for it was fire when you were surrounded by joy and love and every one greeted you with kindness—­and you passed through the water, when the wickedness of others stung you to the soul.  At that time the water was up to your neck, and yet you weren’t drowned.  Now you’ve got over it all.  And when my last hour comes, don’t weep for me; for through you I’ve enjoyed all the happiness a mother’s heart can have in this world.”